


"Yuletide"

by a_carnal_mink



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabbles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-30
Updated: 2011-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-24 04:24:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_carnal_mink/pseuds/a_carnal_mink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's first earthly Christmas - Dean Winchester style.  Told in 9 drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Yuletide"

**Author's Note:**

> Website: [weltonbmarsland.com](https://weltonbmarsland.com/)

****  
_I_  


  
'So. Oh-Nine, huh?'

Dean shifted slightly, making room for FutureCas to sit with him on FutureDean's cabin steps. 'Yeah. September.'

'Ah.' Cas bumped their shoulders together. 'First anniversary!'

'Anniversary?'

Clouded blue eyes blinked slow at him. 'Of us getting out. After Hell.'

Shit. That hadn't even occurred to Dean before now. 'Um. I guess?'

'Not near Christmas, then.' Not even a question; Cas was just saying it. He glanced sideways momentarily, gnawing his bottom lip, then looked away from Dean again. 'I liked that Christmas. Maybe the best ever.'

Dean didn't wanna ask.

They sat quietly together, awaiting FutureDean's orders.

 

 ****  
_II_  


  
'You didn't wish to join Sam at midnight mass?'

'One – that's never been my scene, okay? Two – cooler full of beer and snacks here, not church. Three – cult movie marathon tonight on cable. Which do y'think sounds more like my kind of Christmas Eve, huh?'

'Granted.'

'Great. So… sit yourself down and shut up. Barbarella's just started.'

'And this movie has a cult?'

'Well, yeah! Jane Fonda in go-go outfits and space-sex all over the place! Y'know what? It's even got angels in it. You'll love it!'

'What's a go-go outfit?'

'Something you'll thank me for tomorrow. Pass the chips.'

 

 ****  
_III_  


  
Onscreen, Pygar told The Dark Tyrant, "An angel doesn't make love. An angel IS love." Beside Dean, Castiel spluttered quietly into the beer he'd nursed nearly an hour. He hadn't done that when Barbarella fucked Pygar the angel, or when The Dark Tyrant took Pygar's hands and ran them all over her body.

'Dude. Problem?'

'He lied.'

'Angels aren't really love?' Dean made sure to smirk.

Castiel averted his eyes. 'He made love to Barbarella.'

'Well, who wouldn't? I mean, look at her!'

'She is very… womanly.'

'She's sexy as fuck.'

'She's an innocent.'

'Yeah, but she catches on quick.'

 

 ****  
_IV_  


  
'Think Pygar's wings are ducttaped? We never see his back…' Dean swivelled his head to find Cas staring at him intently. The closing scenes fading, forgotten. 'Cas?'

The headboard they leaned against creaked. Castiel loomed in, bringing their faces closer, shoulders pressed tight together. 'Thank-you for sharing this.'

Dean swallowed. 'You like?'

'This might be my best Christmas.'

Another Cas, one Dean spoke with months before but who only existed in a possible future, bumped his shoulder in Dean's memory, gnawing his own lip. Dean's gaze fell to Castiel's lips now, the FutureCas in his mind smiling in anticipation. _Ohholyshit._

 

 ****  
_V_  


  
There was salt from chips and tang from beer, but mainly there was just Cas – lips a little rough, mouth definitely not used to kissing, but fervent and impatient and quickly adapting.

Pinpricks of stubble itched Dean's nose, so he solved that dilemma by pushing Cas' collar roughly aside and sucking the pale flesh exposed. His dick throbbed, feeling the deep vibrations of Cas moaning so hotly, right there under his tongue. Dean couldn't help groaning in response, finding Cas' mouth so willing when he returned to it, that he didn't even give a fuck about the stubble.

'God, Cas…'

 

 ****  
_VI_  


  
It was his new favourite thing, Dean decided, getting his hand under that damn trenchcoat and finding hard angel cock underneath. Just from making out! Just from slurping on Dean's tongue and letting Dean give him hickeys that'd be mojo'd away later.

'Uh, Dean,' Cas whispered into his mouth.

'Shh, I gotcha, s'okay.'

'No, Dean. Sam's approaching.'

Fuck. Sasquatch steps outside the door and the room suddenly empty of horny angel.

'Timing, Sammy. Shit.'

Sam took in Dean's dishevelled state, head shaking in disgust. 'Dude. I thought you got over jerking off to Jane Fonda when you were, like, nineteen?'

 

 ****  
_VII_  


  
Dean awoke next morning from dreaming of FutureCas – hapless, hopeless, desperately loyal, desperately alone despite his orgiastic lifestyle, friend for life FutureCas – and found his heart aching for the poor guy, aching for his friend possibly becoming him.

Dinner was sombre, Ellen and Jo's absence still too raw, until Bobby opened some whiskey and would suffer no protest about "It's A Wonderful Life" on _his own goddamn television_.

When Sam suggested Dean give "his Clarence" a call, Dean flicked him with cranberry sauce. Then excused himself to the bathroom and called Cas from in there.

'C'mon, Cas. It's Christmas, man!'

 

 ****  
_VIII_  


  
'You know the man called Christ wasn't born in December?'

'Uh, yeah, Sammy craps on about it practically every year. Now shut up and kiss me.'

'Dean – '

'Cas.' Dean stared sternly into oceans of dark blue, catching the exact moment Castiel gave up on anything other than pulling Dean bodily to him. 'Cas,' he said again, lower, rougher, their mouths sliding together wetly.

Pressed against a '75 Caddy, Dean's back arched over the bodywork, Cas' trenchcoat settling over them both, Cas kissed him and kissed him and kissed him.

'So today's no different to any other?'

'Happy Yuletide, Dean.'

 

 ****  
_IX_  


  
'I liked Christmas,' Cas declared as Winchesters and angel drove out of Singer's Salvage Yard.

Dean glanced into the rearview with one eyebrow raised. 'Maybe the best ever?' he suggested, remembering again an even scruffier Cas who wore blue and carried a shotgun.

Cas looked intently into Dean's eyes in the mirror. 'My Christmas experiences are limited. But yes.'

Sam whacked Dean's shoulder. (Dean had a bite-shaped bruise there, but he refused to flinch.) 'And you didn't wanna call him! Told you he'd love it.'

Just quietly, Dean heard a Pygar quote murmured from the backseat. 'An angel IS love.'

**Author's Note:**

> Written July 2010.


End file.
